


Numb

by Princess of Power (Pulpbomb)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Like boatloads of angst, Sherlolly - Freeform, don't hate me, not a happy fic, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:03:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1857354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pulpbomb/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Power
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock makes another vow.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from. I tagged it Sherlock/Molly but well you'll see.

He was numb. He couldn’t feel anything, not his fingers, not his lungs, nor his feet which carried him inexorably down the long corridor to where Mycroft stood waiting.

He knew he was still alive, knew his lungs were still functioning, knew intellectually that his heart still pumped blood through his veins but deep down, his heart had been burned out.

His brother watched his approach impassively. Sherlock could read the worry and strain in the ones around his eyes, the set of Mycroft’s lips, his grief in the way he held his omnipresent umbrella.

When Sherlock reached his side, Mycroft turned to greet him. “This is unnecessary, Sherlock. Please don’t do this to yourself. John can do it… Or Lestrade. Or let me do this for you. Please.”

Sherlock turned his head slowly, looking at his brother with eyes made glassy with tears. “No, I have to do this. Mycroft, I have to.”

Mycroft exhaled slowly and then raised his hand to grip above his brother’s elbow, a gesture meant to comfort but ultimately falling short. Nothing could comfort him now. “Would you like me to go in with you?” He asked softly.

Sherlock shook his head, his throat closed and suddenly unable to speak. He coughed once, twice, before finally clearing the bile that threatened to rise from his gorge and spill on the linoleum floor beneath his numb feet. 

“No. Thank you, brother. I must do this alone.”

His brother nodded and squeezed his hand before letting it fall by his side.

Sherlock attempted to draw himself to his full height but his shoulders remained hunched, his head curling towards his chest. 

When he blinked, he found himself in the room with the body. He had no memory of opening the doors, leaving his brother behind, speaking with the patholo— person on duty. He was alone. A small courtesy, one for which he could thank his brother surely.

With a trembling hand he pulled back the sheet, revealing lank brown hair that once was full and lustrous. Her eyes were closed and while her face was pale, if he didn’t pull the sheet down to reveal the angry bruising on her neck, she looked almost peaceful. 

The fingers of his other hand twitched in an endless rhythm, tapping against his leg, but he couldn’t feel them. He couldn’t feel anything. 

No, that wasn’t quite true. As he stood staring down at the women he loved, the women who he desperately hoped knew how he felt even though he’d never had the courage to tell her, he felt a white hot anger consume him. He felt it start in his chest and quickly grow until it seemed his entire body was incandescent with rage.

“Molly. My love. I will find Moran. I will kill him. He will never know a moment’s peace until I end his life. I will never know a moment’s peace until I end his life the same way he ended yours. Mine will be the last face he ever sees. I couldn’t save you but I will avenge you. I love you.” 

A single tear streaked down his cheek as he bent down to place a gentle kiss on her cold forehead. The tear fell on her skin and he left it there as he replaced the sheet before turning and leaving the room.

Mycroft stood silently waiting for him. Sherlock walked past him, calling over his shoulder. “Come along, brother. We have work to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. This came over me & I had to write it. I'm sorry! **ducks**


End file.
